


Livestock

by violet_quill



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2010-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_quill/pseuds/violet_quill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a poor girl with an icky disease, so of course House has to make lots of jokes about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Livestock

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005 for a challenge at picfor1000 (it was a picture of a farm).

  
Chase exhaled as he stepped into the conference room, leaning against the glass wall. “Negative on the spinal tap," he said. "It's not meningitis."

Foreman followed close behind, slumping into the chair beside Cameron. "Rash now, too. Spreading over her abdomen and arms."

House grinned. "Excellent! So what the charming Dr. Chase really means is, she doesn't have meningitis _yet_!"

Cameron looked up as she tapped her pencil on the table. "Weil's disease?"

"Well, if her kidneys or liver are the next thing to go, we'll know for sure, won't we?"

He received only a frown in reply, Cameron's pencil tapping louder and louder as if she were taking out her frustration on the surface in front of her. "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime – " House bellowed, getting to his feet and limping towards the door, "pump her full of penicillin and find out if she's fallen into any rivers lately."

***

"How's your latest patient?" Wilson asked, stepping into the elevator just as the doors were about to close on House.

"Alive," came the curt reply as House jutted out his cane to press the button for the third floor, "and apparently suffering from Leptospirosis."

"Weil's disease?" Wilson's brow crinkled slightly. "Don't you get that from contaminated freshwater?"

"Water that cows have pissed in? Yup, usually. But our cute little middle school cheerleader – well, less cute now that she has a rather unattractive rash – hasn't been near any rivers or canals lately."

"So how do you think she got it?"

The doors to the elevator opened and House hobbled out first, followed closely by Wilson, who glanced briefly at the lit "five" on the row of buttons. He'd apparently decided that finishing the conversation was more important than arriving at his original destination.

"Leptospirosis is caused by a spiral bacterium which is harboured in a number of wild animals, but more commonly, domestic animals such as cattle, pigs, and horses," House recited, sounding as if he were reading from a textbook. "The organism enters via skin or lining of the eye, mouth, or genital area."

"That didn't really answer my question," Wilson pointed out somewhat irritably, falling into step beside House as they neared the hospital cafeteria.

"Well, it probably means that she's been milking cows, or fucking them," House answered, grabbing a tray from the stack just outside the cafeteria line. "Hungry?"

" _Fucking_ them? Really, Greg. I'm not one of your underlings; you don't have to say things like that just to shock me."

" _Really, James,_ " House replied, a mocking lilt to his voice, "I'm not trying to shock you. How am I supposed to know how fourteen year old girls get their jollies these days? Maybe cows are the new, hip thing. Just not the ones infected with nasty little bacteria."

Wilson sighed and picked up a tray, signaling the woman behind the counter for a salad. “I’m not sure to whom you’re being more offensive – the girls or the cows.”

“Got a thing for cows?” House asked cheerfully. “I forgot you grew up in Missouri. Did a lot of… milking, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Wilson replied, “I did.”

“Hmmm… I think I’m in the mood for a hamburger.” House turned and leered at his companion. “Rare.”

“You know, I just don’t understand why you’re not more popular with the ladies,” Wilson snorted, watching with an expression of distaste as a somewhat pink burger was plopped onto the other man’s tray. “With charming conversational skills like this, you should be kicking them out of your bed.”

“Oh, I do plenty of kicking, to be sure.” House pounded his cane on the floor dramatically. “And I’ll bet you got tons of little milk maids. All blonde pig tails and flannel shirts tied over bare tummies?” He looked down at the hamburger and licked his lips. “Mmmm.”

“Milk maids aren’t really my type.” Wilson handed a ten dollar bill to the cashier and then followed House to a table that appeared to be as far away as possible from the other patrons.

“More into the stable boys, hmm?” House asked, taking a large bite of the hamburger before Wilson could reply. Still chewing, he pronounced, “Mmmm s’good.”

“At least I’m not constructing fantasies about fourteen year old gymnasts and _cows_.”

“Cheerleader.”

“Whatever. I assume you’ve cured her, though, or you wouldn’t be so glib. Wait – who am I kidding? Of course you would! Already taken her down to the morgue, have you?” Wilson stabbed viciously with his fork at a piece of lettuce.

“Tut tut, Dr. Wilson, it’s not normally in your nature to be so morbid.” House squirted a glob of ketchup unceremoniously onto his plate. “As it so happens, the girl is on her way to a speedy recovery, thanks to an apple a day and a high dose of penicillin.” He tilted his head. “Served with a smile, of course.”

“Of course. And about the stable boys…”

House held up a hand. “Say no more. I know exactly where your interests lie.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Do you? And what about you?”

House took another bite of the hamburger. “Grew up in Pittsburgh,” he explained after swallowing. “No horses _or_ cows. Lots of cheerleaders, though.”

Wilson cleared his throat. “You know, Greg, just because you usually go for cows doesn’t mean that you can’t like horses as well…”

“Oh? Even if you marry the cow? Or two or three for that matter?”

“Even if.”

House chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Tell the truth. Were you ever in Future Farmers of America?”

“Um… yes.” Wilson cracked a small smile. “Blue ribbon three years running for a goat. Her name was Trixie.”

“Well, now. I think that’s much more impressive than doing splits and yelling cheers.” House finished off the last bit of the hamburger and then stood. “I think I’ll go with goats, actually. Much more interesting than horses and cows.”

Wilson looked up at him. “Are… we still talking about livestock?"


End file.
